Mega Lopho What?

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Holy cow, I have been so incredibly busy with so much to do I just can’t tell you because I don’t even know where to start….

(So did that sound convincing?)

Maybe you’d prefer the truth.  I have done pretty much nothing for the last couple of days.

Except, my new printer arrived and is as hooked up as a smart wireless printer needs to be.  I have no idea how I survived for so many years with my monstrous old one which in comparison was not very smart at all. But it was a good scanner and it printed excellent photos.  I liked it just fine until the day it decided it could no longer recognize a new ink cartridge and refused to carry on no matter how hard I kicked it.  I’m kidding, I don’t kick inanimate objects.

On Saturday our brand new much-anticipated great-niece arrived! I saw her picture on Facebook before I got the message on my phone! She is in Ontario so I don’t know when we will get to meet her in person.  Why this wonderful news made it impossible for me to accomplish anything is a complete mystery, but I’m using her birth as an excuse anyway.

Then today my daughter cleaned my house and W took granddaughter K shopping for a new winter coat.  One of these years she will stop letting her arms and legs grow ever longer.  And yes, I know I could probably get off my ass and clean my own house now that I’m no longer working,  but I pay her well so I think she’s happy to have me as one of her clients,  plus we sometimes feed her.  I absolutely love how everything looks when she’s done.  And I like to talk to her constantly while she’s here (talk about a captive audience) so once again – no drawings or painting or writing.  I did cook supper though.   I’m not completely useless.

All of the above, including the picture which illustrates some of W’s Christmas decorating skills, has very little to do with the incredible word I discovered and would like to share with you.

megalophonous

Having a loud voice; vociferous; clamorous.

Of grand or imposing sound.

The word ‘megalophonous’ comes from Greek roots meaning ‘big’ and ‘sound’.

The reason I like this word so much is because it so perfectly describes the one and only W.  He isn’t always loud, but when he is,  it’s definitely mega.  He uses his megalophonous talents when greeting people in public places, talking to a group of people, or to just one person in a room full of people so that all other conversations are effectively drowned out, AND when he is talking on the phone.  This is the one that drives me crazy.  He has a friend he talks to who also has a super loud telephone voice.  When the two of them get on the phone I can hear their entire conversation from the other end of the house.

He will tell you that he does this because he is used to talking to his hearing impaired dad, but his dad wasn’t always deaf, whereas W has always been loud.  Perhaps he is partly to blame for his dad’s hearing loss.

My head hurts and my ears pound and ring when people are too loud.  I don’t like music turned up or concerts or crowds of people making a big racket.  Sometimes I think my own hearing loss is a form of self-defence.

So yeah.  That’s all I wanted to say about that.  Because if I say any more and W reads it I’ll be in for a loud lecture on all his virtues.  The entire time I’ve been writing this, W has been sitting across the room as quiet as a mouse.

Okay I take that back because he just made a long and loud speech about the pros and cons of dishwasher liquid versus powder detergents and how he prefers laundry detergent in liquid form.  I agree with everything he said, so there was no reason to shout.

Gawd, we will end up as two little old half deaf shouting people having random conversations about nothing.  Unless that’s happened already.  If so, I really don’t want to hear about it.

The Worst Teacher I Ever Had

Huiswerk / Homework

When I found out his first name was Cecil, well! That explained so much. When your mother names you Cecil, people are bound to feel sorry for you later in life and can almost forgive you for ending up short and rotund and a pompous ass.

I don’t even know if his teaching was all that bad – I learned some French in those four years of highschool after all, enough at least to be able to read the french side of the cereal box. But it was how he made me feel that stands out in my mind and made me think of him immediately for my answer. Sorry Cecil. But here’s all the reasons why.

You were LOUD. Some days you made a beautiful language sound like screamed obscenities. You never made the effort to remember my name and called me Mademoiselle! You played us indecipherable tapes and then scoffed at us for not being able to interpret them. Tapes, when everyone knows the French speak with their gestures as much as with their words. You assigned us the most boring homework on the face of this earth. Verb conjugations and spelling lists. You corrected our pronunciation with shakes of your head and heavy sighs, as if we were all hopeless idiots.

No good teacher makes you feel like you’re a hopeless idiot, even if you are one. So – Vous étiez mon pire enseignant Cecil! J’ai jamais aimé vous! And if that’s not all grammatically correct and properly spelled, Je n’avez pas soins! Maybe if your name had been Andre or Jean-Claude you would have turned out to be a nicer guy and I could have liked you better.

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